


One More Reason to Hate Death Eaters

by Koshweasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Comedy, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Public Sex, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-03
Updated: 2007-06-03
Packaged: 2018-10-26 16:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10790106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koshweasley/pseuds/Koshweasley
Summary: 18. The Weasley's home is destroyed during the war and is currently rebuild. The whole un-sheltered Weasley clan moves into Fred and Georges flat. How do they cope with having to hide their relationship and with sexual frustration? seregil_1982





	One More Reason to Hate Death Eaters

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Thanks to my wonderful beta's, **evilauntiesnape** and **thrihyrne** for all your help. If there are any mistakes, they are my own doing, as I may have changed this or that. And also a special thanks to **rickey_a** for coming up with the perfect title. I'm balls at that.  


* * *

  
One More Reason to Hate Death Eaters  
  
  
  
Ron gripped the headboard while he rapidly thrust into Harry, who was on all fours, moaning from Ron’s erotic assault.  
  
“Gods…Harry…so close,” Ron grunted. With a guttural cry and a loud bang, Ron came deep inside Harry.  
  
“Bloody fantastic,” Ron laughed, collapsing on top of Harry.  
  
Another loud bang, followed shortly by five more, brought Ron out of his post-orgasmic bliss.  
  
“Ron, get off me,” Harry yelled in panic. “You didn’t make that noise.”  
  
Ron quickly pulled out of Harry. Both boys grabbed their wands and ran to the window. They could just make out about a dozen or so figures directly outside the wards, while green and red lights streaked toward the house.  
  
“Boys, get down here!” Arthur yelled up the stairs.  
  
Harry and Ron each quickly grabbed a pair of boxers ( these being the only articles of clothing within reach ), pulled them on and ran down the steps, casting cleaning charms along the way.  
  
“This would bloody happen before I got off,” Harry grumbled, as they made their way downstairs, dust showering down on their heads.  
  
An ear-piercing shriek blared all around them as they reached the last landing, announcing that the wards were collapsing. Another bang blew a hole in the side of the house where the kitchen table now lay in pieces. Wood splintered, beams broke, and dust and smoke filled the battered home.  
  
“What’s going on, Dad?” Ron yelled through the chaos.  
  
“Death Eaters! Now get to the floo!” Arthur shouted. “Harry, Ron, Ginny you know the plan, now move! Percy, you’re in charge of them, make sure they get there safe,” Arthur continued shouting.  
  
Bill and Charlie were busy throwing hexes out the hole in the side of the Burrow, narrowly escaping a few hexes themselves.  
  
“Charlie, Bill, let’s go!” Molly yelled, as Percy followed Harry and the others through the floo.  
  
“Boys, NOW!” Arthur yelled, face red with rage. The remaining Weasleys stepped into the fireplace, shouting their destination.  
  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
  
“I’m leaving the dishes until tomorrow,” I say, leaving the loo and casting a nox to put out the lights. “I’m too tired to care about them now.”  
  
“Awww,” George whimpers. “Are you too tired for desert?”  
  
I look up toward our bed, on which George is lying, and I’m instantly hard. His right leg is bent and he’s drizzling chocolate syrup over a mound of whipped cream and Witch's Food cake that is currently covering his cock, and holding it in an upright position. He continues up his chest, dribbling a decent amount of chocolate on his pecs and up his chest to his left ear. Merlin, he knows what this does to me.  
  
“I can’t believe you’ve made my favourite dessert,” I say, quickly toeing off my boots.  
  
He’s giving me his pouty face. “Well, if you’re too tired…” he says, but he knows I'm not.  
  
“Too tired for whipped cream surprise?” I ask, unbuttoning my jeans. “Never.”  
  
I quickly shuck off my remaining clothes, setting my wand on our bedside table, just in case I eat all the cream. I slowly walk to the end of the bed, taking in the wonderful sight that is offered to me.  
  
“To what do I owe this special surprise, Georgee?” I ask, barely able to control the urge to pounce on him.  
  
“Happy Birthday, brother,” he says with a huge smile.  
  
I gradually climb up the bed toward him. “A day early?”  
  
“It‘s past midnight now,” he tells me.  
  
He spreads his legs a little more. God what that does to me. I lean down and run my tongue over the top of the mound, uncovering the head of his cock.  
  
“Tastes brilliant,” I murmur.  
  
“Tut, tut, Fred,” he says, tapping my shoulder. “You have to start at the bottom before you get to the creamy filling.”  
  
“Gods, you know I love when you talk like that,” I moan.  
  
I’m so turned on I hungrily start eating a path from around the base to the space between his legs. I swipe my tongue over his entrance, and his legs start to quiver. I swirl my tongue through some more of the - Weasley Wizards Wanking Whipped Cream - for all your decorating needs…inside and out, only five galleons - and move back down to plunge my tongue inside George.  
  
He moans as I push my tongue inside. And he says I’m a screamer, the git.  
  
“F-Fred,” he calls, after several minutes and several mouthfuls of cream.  
  
I stop and lift my head. “Yes?”  
  
“Come up here,” he murmurs.  
  
I slowly move up the bed until we’re face to face. I bring our bodies together, pushing my hard cock into the remaining pile of cream and cake. It's still warm. Of course, that could be from the warming spell we made the cream with. It feels squishy, soft, and silky. I plunge my tongue into George’s mouth, Merlin, he tastes fantastic.  
  
George pushes his hips up into mine, trying to get a bit of friction. That’s how he always works. Gets me all hot and bothered, then a couple of frantic thrusts, and he’s shooting all over the place-then he falls asleep straight away.  
  
I allow him a few thrusts, just to get my cock slicked up, then I reach down and position my cock at his entrance. George spreads his legs to give me more room, and that’s when it all goes to hell.  
  
I start to push in, and there is a commotion downstairs in our storeroom.  
  
“Was that Ron?” George asks.  
  
More shouts come from downstairs and then it sounds as though a herd of thestrals are galloping up the stairs to our flat.  
  
“Fred! George!” Ron yells as he climbs the steps.  
  
I quickly jump off of George, and grab my wand. I just manage to cast the locking spell on the door as Ron tries the knob. Now he’s pounding on the door and yelling.  
  
“Bollocks!” we say in unison.  
  
There is more pounding on the door, and it sounds like Percy. We quickly cast cleaning charms and throw on some clothes.  
  
As we get to the door, we can hear the unmistakable sound of our mum, yelling from downstairs.  
  
“What the hell?” George says. He’s looking rather nervous, as I’m sure I am too.  
  
I open the door and Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Percy come barreling inside.  
  
“'Bout bloody time,” Ron grips.  
  
“What’s going on?” George asks.  
  
“Is everyone okay?" Dad asks, running into our flat. He quickly examines Ron and Harry, and then he moves to Ginny.  
  
“Everyone is fine, Father,” Percy says, in his annoyingly pompous tone. “I’ve seen them safely here.”  
  
“What are you on about, Percy? You followed us here,” Ron says, in his equally annoying, whiney voice.  
  
“Kids, is everyone alright?” Mum asks, as she rushes into our flat.  
  
I have reached my annoyance saturation point. “Will someone please tell us what is going on?” I finally yell. Which I am instantly sorry I did, as we got six simultaneous answers.  
  
“Kids, stop!” Dad finally says. “Quiet down.”  
  
Bill helps Charlie into our flat. Bloody hell - he’s bleeding.  
  
“Charlie!” I yell. No, not very manly, but he’s my brother and he’s hurt.  
  
“Fred, George do you have any healing potions?” Mum asks frantically.  
  
“I’ll get it,” I answer, quickly moving to our bedside table.  
  
Bill helps Charlie to the bed and Mum immediately starts waving her wand to heal his wounds.  
  
“Dad, what happened?” George asks again.  
  
“The Burrow was attacked by Death Eaters,” he answers. “It’s gone.”  
  
“The Burrow,” George says softly.  
  
“Gone?” I finish.  
  
“Yes,” Dad says somberly.  
  
“Boys, it looks like we’ll have to stay with you two for a while,” Dad starts.  
  
“With,” George starts.  
  
“Us?” I finish, even more in shock.  
  
“Yes, with you,” he answers. “Now, how are your wards? They are sure to come here soon.”  
  
I stand up as tall as I can. “They’re the best you’ll find outside of Hogwarts.”  
  
“Then why didn’t you share them with your family?” Ginny grumbles, standing in her pyjamas, arms crossed.  
  
“Never mind that,” Dad says. “We need to work out sleeping arrangements for you kids. Bill, Percy, you two help me make some beds.”  
  
Mum is finishing up with Charlie, whose injuries don’t appear to be life threatening.  
  
“This place is a dump,” Ron says, with a turned up nose.  
  
I grab the nearest rolled up sock. Yeah, it’s dirty, but he deserves it. I throw it at him and - Score! Right in the face!  
  
“Ewww, that’s gross!” Ron yells.  
  
“Boys, where is your other bed?” Dad observes, looking around our flat.  
  
Bollocks! Everyone is looking around the room for the missing bed. Exactly how do we explain this one? Think, Fred, think.  
  
“Fred sleeps on the couch - says it’s better for his back,” George answers, without missing a beat.  
  
“Oh, okay,” Dad replies.  
  
Mum, who's finished patching up Charlie, is in the kitchen making cocoa for everyone, while Dad, Bill and Percy transfigure some beds. George and I are still standing beside each other in shock. Our private flat has been taken over by the whole clan.  
  
“Cocoa’s ready, come and get it,” Mum calls. “Who wants whipped cream?”  
  
George and I smile knowingly at each other and smile, and answer with everyone else. “We do.”  
  
“You lot drink up, it’s far past your...” Dad starts before his voice trails off. “Ron, Harry, where are your clothes?”  
  
Everyone looks at Harry and Ron, who are standing in nothing but their boxers. Ron blushes and moves his hands in front of himself, as does Harry.  
  
“We were asleep,” he says defensively.  
  
“I think the better question would be, why are their boxers on backwards?” I tease. Ron glares at me, trying to shoot daggers with his eyes.  
  
“George, give them something to put on,” Dad says. “Then you lot finish your cocoa and off to bed. It’s way past your bedtime.”  
  
We’re all in bed in less than an hour with George on the top bunk across the room, and me on our couch. We’re looking at each other as the rest of the room has drifted off to sleep, Ron leading the way with his tumultuous snoring. Merlin, how does Harry sleep with that every night?  
  
“Good save,” I mutter, with a frown.  
  
“Sorry,” he mouths back.  
  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
  
A few hours later, I’m awakened by the smell of bacon, and the growing hum of chatter. I push the blanket off me, and stretch on the couch. My back is aching and I have a kink in my neck. I roll off the couch and onto the floor, trying to get my body to work. This is a fine state for a young man to be in.  
  
“Good morning, dear,” Mum greets, far too chipper on a morning like this. “Breakfast is just about done. Better get a move on.”  
  
“On, breakfast, done, right,” I say groggily, as I move to the loo. I push open the door and give it another shove as I stand over the toilet. The door clicks shut just as I start to relieve my bladder with closed eyes.  
  
“Oi! Don’t you bloody well knock?” Bill shouts from behind me.  
  
I jump from the sudden voice, pissing on the wall and the sink.  
  
“Hey, watch what you’re doing,” Charlie yells. “You’re pissing all over the place.”  
  
I redirect my stream, now fully awake, and not at all in a good mood.  
  
“Get out!” Bill snarls. “I’m helping Charlie with his bath.”  
  
I give them a quick look and reach for the door knob. “Try using a flannel instead of your tongue then.” I slam the door, and hear something hit the door behind me.  
  
George is giving me a sympathetic look as I cross the room to our wardrobe, where Ron is rummaging through our stuff.  
  
I grumble as I pass George, and push Ron away from our wardrobe. "Beat it, ickle Ronniekins!"  
  
"Oi!" Ron whines. "Harry and I need something to wear."  
  
"Ask next time then," I bark at him, and shove two pairs of jeans and two shirts in his hands.  
  
"What crawled up your wand and died?" Ron mumbles as he walks away to give Harry the clothing.  
  
Breakfast is no different; Bill and Charlie sit on either side of me, so George has to sit at the other end of the table. To make matters worse, they keep taking my sausages as payment for my perverse comment. And no one even says "Happy Birthday."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
  
George and I go down to our shop to open up, and get away from the family. George stays busy restocking the shelves of our more popular items, but every time he bents over to pull something out of one of the cupboards, I almost drop whatever I'm holding. A quick locking spell on the door to the back room to make sure no one interrupts, and I slide in behind George, pressing my hard cock into his buttocks.  
  
"Gods, I hardly slept a wink without our nightly shag," I murmur into his ear, giving it a long lick with my tongue.  
  
"Yeah, our family definitely put a kink in our kink," he replies, pushing back into me.  
  
I push my cock against him with more force, causing him to brace on the shelves. His breathing starts to increase, and I can tell he's as hard as I am.  
  
"Time for our birthday shag then?" I ask.  
  
He looks around the shop and turns slightly toward me. "Do we have time?"  
  
"Jack isn't due for another fifteen, and he's usually a half an hour late anyway," I reply.  
  
George's grin grows and he frantically starts unbuttoning his trousers. "Did you put a Disillusionment Charm on the windows?" he asks.  
  
"Oh, right," and I quickly fog the windows, and undo the first of the buttons on my trousers when a banging starts on the back door.  
  
"Oi! Open up," Ron yells.  
  
We both freeze.  
  
"Maybe if we don't make a sound they'll go away," George suggests.  
  
The front door of our shop opens, and Jack walks in whistling.  
  
"Bollocks," I say through gritted teeth, and step away from George, both of us fastening our clothing as inconspicuously as possible.  
  
"Oh, good morning Messrs. Weasley," Jack greets us. "I didn't notice you there. You can just leave those and I'll restock the shelves for you."  
  
I give him a wave, and George and I go to open the back door before Ron pounds his way through.  
  
"The one day he has to be on time for work," George grumbles.  
  
With a wave of my wand I unlock the door and it opens suddenly, hitting Ron's head with a satisfying thud. I smile slightly as he yelps and rubs his forehead.  
  
"What. Do. You. Want?" I ask through gritted teeth.  
  
"Can we help you two down here?" Ron asks. "Mum is driving us mental up there."  
  
"No," George says from behind me.  
  
"Come on," Ron whines.  
  
"Bugger off, ickle Ronniekins," I snarl.  
  
"But Harry hasn't seen any of your new products," Ron wheedles.  
  
"There you are, now don't get in your brothers' way," Mum orders as she steps up behind Harry and Ron. "Are you two sure it's safe for you to open today? Perhaps you could call a holiday for a few days?"  
  
"Mum, we'll be fine. Why don't you all go back upstairs," I say, while George walks back into our shop.  
  
"Well, I'm leaving Charlie and Bill down here to help keep an eye out," Mum says, to our utter horror.  
  
"Mum, no! That's not necessary. We'll be fine," I try to reason with her, but Charlie and Bill push past me into our shop.  
  
"You're wasting your breath, squirt. We're staying," Bill says, picking up a Skiving Snackbox. "We could have used a few of these back in my day."  
  
For most of the morning, Bill and Charlie stay out of the way, only harassing our employee a few dozen times with questions about his loyalty to or against He Who Must Not Be Named. Around ten o'clock the post owls come delivering the usual junk mail, but also our new dragon skinn leather pants. George quickly darts out and put his on, to Charlie's great disgust.  
  
"That's one way to get him out of our hair," George celebrates as he models for me.  
  
I can only stand there and drool. Merlin what those trousers do for his figure - and to 'Freddy stiff neck'. I'm in agony. Freddy wants out of my tight jeans, but with Bill still here, he's "cut off."  
  
Or, is he?  
  
"George, I think we should go to our lab and continue our experiment," I say in my "business" voice.  
  
"I concur, brother," George replies with a grin.  
  
We leave the shop in the capable hands of Jack, with Bill to keep him company. Dad and Charlie are in the back room, seated at the small table we use for wrapping packages, discussing Order business. Charlie scowls at both of us as we pass by and step into our lab, closing the door softly behind us. George's slightly chapped lips are possessively on mine as soon as I turn around. His breath is warm, with a hint of chocolate. Our tongues fight for dominance, and then there's a whimper and another voice. We freeze.  
  
"Come on, Harry, let me in. I gotta have it," Ron says, just above a whisper.  
  
"No, Ron, someone might come in and see us," Harry's voice replies in the dark room.  
  
"We'll hear if anyone comes in. Besides - we're hidden behind these big boxes," Ron says defensively. There is a slight rustling sound, and George and I right ourselves.  
  
Nox, I say loudly, wand pointed in their general direction. Ron and Harry both yell in fright, their eyes wide with surprise. Harry's trousers are unbuttoned and he's trying to button them up.  
  
"What are you two doing in our lab?" George demands.  
  
"Don't you knock before you enter a room?" Ron snaps back nervously.  
  
"This is our lab," I remind him.  
  
"Well I'm trying to get some," Ron says a little boldly. "So, how about buggering off, so I can."  
  
Harry's face goes from shocked white to blushing maroon as he pulls his shirt down over his front. Always the bashful one, he is.  
  
"This isn't your shag shack, you prat. Get out!" I bark.  
  
"This is the only private room in your place," Ron whines. "Why can't you just give us an hour?"  
  
"More like two minutes," George interjects.  
  
Ron scowls. "Can't you just be nice to me for once?"  
  
"Oh, there you are," Mum says, entering the lab. "You lot come out here, lunch is ready. I thought we'd eat down here, as there's more room." With that she walks out, leaving the door open, the rest of the family just outside. Harry quickly exits the lab, followed by a very affronted Ron.  
  
George and I follow him out, grumbling about family and lack of privacy.  
  
Twelve hours ago I was just starting to enjoy my birthday present, Whipped Cream Surprise. Now all I get is cold sandwiches. If ever I see that slimy, snake faced, over glorified, old He Who Must Not Be Buggered, I'll kill him myself.  
  
The rest of the day is no better. Although the shop is busy, it's mostly Order members milling about and making our real customers nervous enough to NOT buy anything. Snape, of all people, takes over our lab to brew up some field healing potions, and chastises us for our supposedly disorderly work areas. He even reorganizes our shelves.  
  
Upstairs in our flat, Percy has turned our bed into an enormous desk, on which he's busy doing his Ministry work from.  
  
"Percy, what the bloody hell are you doing?" I yell. "This is our flat, not your office!"  
  
"Quiet! I have a lot of work to do, and you two will just have to deal with a few minor inconveniences," he shouts. "Now leave me alone so I can finish my these reports for the Minister."  
  
"Why the hell don't you just go to work?" George asked incredulously.  
  
Percy merely waves us off, and continues talking to his quick quote quill. It scratches away as if every sound from our git of a brother is laced in gold. George, his fists balled as though in preparation for a fight, flushes angrily.  
  
"Ah, there you are dears," Mum says, pushing us out of our flat. "Now leave Percy to his work, and you two come downstairs."  
  
As we follow Mum out the door, we hear Percy muttering to himself, "Finally - peace and quiet."  
  
By dinner time I am as frustrated as a nesting Welsh Green. The Order members have all gone home, leaving us with our family. Every time we try to leave the room, either Mum, Dad, or Bill would follows us. "Where are you going? What are you doing? You should stay with the rest of us so you're not easy targets. "  
  
Dinner finally breaks the broomstick. I'd purchased some fresh mussles, lobster, and some soft shell crab to make a special dinner for our birthday. We'd been to Jamaica on holiday, a destination Lee pointed us to, and had this delicious seafood pasta dish, which George just fell in love with. All the planning, the owls and the special payments ( of which I still have horrible memories, and a slight rash from ), just to give George a great dinner, and Mum stews the lot of my ingredients. Stews them! I had to let a very greasy cook and three bus boys shag me over a hard thin table just to get the recipe. I also had to blow...( cue loud gagging sound )...an overly-tanned, middle-aged, fifteen-gold-chained, overweight man who smelled like a rancid gardenia blossom, to get true soft shell crab. I won't even tell you what I had to do to get the lobster. And she, our loving mother, stews my seafood! One touch from the serial matron, and it goes from being the ultimate aphrodisiacal feast to the most mediocre tomato stew.  
  
I stand from the table, not unwilling to take another bite, politely extricating myself and my twin from the familial dining debacle. "If you will excuse us, George and I have a previous engagement," I announce through gritted teeth.  
  
We step out into our hallway and close the door. I see Bill and Charlie stand up to follow us. They won't be in time.  
  
"What previous engagement?" George asks quizzically.  
  
I tap the wall opposite our flat door, and say a few precise words.  
  
A golden shimmer outlines a newly formed door and I turn the knob. "George, if you please."  
  
"Why, thank you my good man." He bows, grinning from ear to ear, and walks through the door.  
  
Shutting the door behind us, I hear our flat door pull open. Before they can see where we've gone the porthole door disappears, leaving us finally to ourselves. I turn around in the dark and George has again reclaimed my lips with his. A loud rumbling announces a glorious storm battering our secret hideaway. In a flash of light I can see George's eyes are open too. We part lips.  
  
"Happy Birthday, Freddie."  
  
"Shall we take this outside?" I ask him.  
  
"Let's," he answers, taking off his clothes and draping them over the map table. I follow his lead.  
  
As George opens the door, a flash of lightning illuminates the room, and I spot a jar of Weasley Wizards Wanking Whipped Cream. I'll have to remember to give Jack a bonus for stocking the place with the essentials. I grab the jar and shut off the searchlight, following George out onto the catwalk encircling the beacon room at the top of the lighthouse. The storm is a magnificent one, full of cacophonous thunder and a brilliant light show. We look down in awe as the waters crash against Wolf Rock Lighthouse. We turn to look at each other, and he's grinning as wide as I am. I pull him to me, and press our lips together, breathing in his scent along with the salty air. It's a bit cold so I cast a warming spell.  
  
The thunder is roaring around us, and the lightning continues to flash. I lead George to the iron bench on the catwalk, and gently but firmly push him to sit. I climb into his lap, our hard cocks rubbing together, and open the jar. I grab a bounteous amount of cream, and coat our cocks. The cream is spelled not to melt in water, so the torrential rain doesn't wash it away.  
  
His eyes roll back in his head, and he brings his arms up to grab the railing behind the bench that encircles the catwalk. Dropping the cream over the edge I again claim his rain-soaked lips, leaning up to position his cock at my entrance. He whimpers euphoniously in my mouth as I lower onto his cock. I grunt at the sensation of being so perfectly filled by my twin. With a final push, he's fully sheathed inside me.  
  
The storm seems to intensify with our lovemaking. I rhythmically rise from, and then lower onto George's lap, and the lightning quickens. I drape my legs through the railing of the catwalk, gripping the top railing with both hands to give me more leverage to ride George's cock. The thunder bangs around us as I cry out in ecstasy. George is gripping the railing behind him, his head leaning back on it, lost in euphoria. The rain slaps our naked bodies as we continue to make love.  
  
George's moans are just audible through the symphony of the storm, and they're increasing. I too am getting close. With a primal shout, George wraps his arms around me, and with a sharp thrust his body stiffens and he empties himself deep inside me.  
  
With his body convulsing against my cock, I erupt between us as a series of flashes light the sky.  
  
And that's where I find myself now - in the post-climactic afterglow of our birthday shag. George's softened cock has slipped from my body, and his head is nestled against my neck. I hold him tenderly but firmly, as the storm still pounds our naked bodies.  
  
I'll have to ask Jack how he came to acquire this lighthouse, and give him a fifth week's vacation.  
  
~ fin ~  



End file.
